


Reasons Why

by SunnyD_lite



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-26
Updated: 2007-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a reason for everything -- even if it's not the most obvious</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons Why

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: **janedavitt** pointed out it was "Write about socks" day. She said, so I obeyed.  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no profits, no foul, right?

"It is so an efficient use of time; can I help it if three laundry baskets means I can't see? Who needs to see in a hallway?"

Jim cocked his head as he subconsciously tuned into Blair's mutterings as his roommate made his way from the elevator to the loft. He counted off the footfalls and debated letting Blair open the door himself.

What he did hear was two thuds and then a soft kick. "Jim, man, I know you're in there. I'll hold your white socks hostage, all sixty-four of them."

He'd never figured Sandburg for the more quantitative side of domestic science, but thinking back to the original foray of tests, maybe he'd underestimated his partner.

There was another thud at the door. "I mean it, Jim. If I can hide your Christmas presents, I can definitely make the socks disappear." That got him up. Not the threat, he'd sussed out Sandburg's hiding places the first holiday they shared -- he hadn't peeked, but he knew where to—but the fact he knew he'd be the one picking things up if Sandburg dropped them to get the door.

He hadn't meant to time opening the door with yet another kick; if he had he would have made sure that he wasn't in the way of the tsunami of blessfully clean clothes. Of course, trying to convince Sandburg of that was a battle not worth embarking on. There was a downside to being the object of hero worship, his observer seemed to simultaneously look at him in awe and manage to ignore him enough to leave wet towels strewn across the bathroom floor.

The floor was where he currently found himself, under a layer of socks. Unsorted, unpaired socks.

"Didn't hear mention of a blizzard in the weather forecast."

"If you could branch out to wacky sock colors like grey and black or, God forbid, an argyle or two, you wouldn't be in a blizzard. So, man, I've been meaning to ask, what's with the white sock fetish? Is it a Sentinel thing?"

Shaking his head, Jim began gathering up the socks. "Not everything is a Sentinel thing, Chief. Now this might be a foreign concept, but a uniform saves time."

"TIME? That's it? Man, I have a whole notebook dedicated to the topic, with theories from wicking moisture away from sensitive skin to it being part of your subtle flouting of authority. But simple expediency?" Sandburg's head dropped. "I expected something a little more complex from you."

"You know, I'd give that diatribe more credence if you hadn't avoided cleaning this mess up during it." With full arms, Jim headed to the sofa to sort his reclaimed prizes. "And what was with the counting?"

The two laundry baskets plopped on the coffee table, "This from the guy with the Tupperware? Like I'd live if I came up with an uneven number of socks." Sandburg glanced sideways over to him. "I'll accept the whole uniform thing, but why so many? I mean with your nose it's not likely you'd let dirty clothes pile up. Don't you have it marked on your calendar, laundry days?"

That remark earned him a smack on the side of his head. "You've seen me when I get on a case. Which do you think is more important, following a hot lead or chores?"

"So it IS a Sentinel thing. I'm guessing the Sentinel's partner would look after the daily items. Hey wait, is that why I get stuck with clothes duty? You were waiting for your partner to turn up? Wait a minute there, Ellison!"

Jim just gathered up his now matched socks and headed up to his room. He could do laundry; he'd been doing it for years. He just didn't like it, trusting a machine to do the job. If Sandburg thought it was Sentinel related, he'd never have to do it again. For that he'd be willing to brave the stray argyle sneaking into his pile.


End file.
